"unstirring" poems - Hello Poetry

So you sate your inadequacies With excuses and those poems And you pretend that tomorrow you will be better But you are unstirring from your heart And the stagnant puddle you call your life It is your air, what once was bitter Complacence takes hold and you watch That view from the window forever the same Sunsets and seasons blurring in the horizon One more hour, another sleepless night An unfinished day and muted uneasiness Is this apathy the only thing you rely on? “Life drains my enthusiasm away bit by bit” You complain, and to refuse reality You firmly repeat it like a charm But you know, one heartbeat away One step further from where you fell last Will crash into your illusion of calm Numb your conscience with art Devour everyone else’s talent And take nothing but tears from their story Leave truths to dent your steel façade Yet bury yourself in denial Safe, shielded, in your delusional glory Bleeding heart, battering in its cage Its screams drowned under ****** veins It’s scary silent, your shell You’ve locked down hard Your defences caked with dreamland dirt Too sturdy for reality to fell Search like a madman for something To ease the voice of discomfort Try to bind it to a letter And so you sate your inadequacies With excuses and this poem And swear that tomorrow you will be better.

0

Apr 1, 2020

Apr 1, 2020 at 6:56 PM UTC

nisaacharajeevi

Dreamland Dirt

So you sate your inadequacies With excuses and those poems And you pretend that tomorrow you will be better But you are unstirring from your heart And the stagnant puddle you call your life It is your air, what once was bitter Complacence takes hold and you watch That view from the window forever the same Sunsets and seasons blurring in the horizon One more hour, another sleepless night An unfinished day and muted uneasiness Is this apathy the only thing you rely on? “Life drains my enthusiasm away bit by bit” You complain, and to refuse reality You firmly repeat it like a charm But you know, one heartbeat away One step further from where you fell last Will crash into your illusion of calm Numb your conscience with art Devour everyone else’s talent And take nothing but tears from their story Leave truths to dent your steel façade Yet bury yourself in denial Safe, shielded, in your delusional glory Bleeding heart, battering in its cage Its screams drowned under ****** veins It’s scary silent, your shell You’ve locked down hard Your defences caked with dreamland dirt Too sturdy for reality to fell Search like a madman for something To ease the voice of discomfort Try to bind it to a letter And so you sate your inadequacies With excuses and this poem And swear that tomorrow you will be better.

36

last night rain magic (such magic) you visited again so freshly and so cleanly you caked each hour i laid (unstirring) with your music your voice and song that gent'lest and constant pitterpatter pitterpatter pitterpatter pitterpatter pitterpatter pi t t erp a tt e r

0

Nov 21, 2011

Nov 21, 2011 at 3:47 PM UTC

patrick-wakefield-1

Untitled

last night rain magic (such magic) you visited again so freshly and so cleanly you caked each hour i laid (unstirring) with your music your voice and song that gent'lest and constant pitterpatter pitterpatter pitterpatter pitterpatter pitterpatter pi t t erp a tt e r

23

Death is my own covetous possession, A hand-me-down with the worn edges Of a closed, burnished keepsake box. Death is the memory of a tree-lined walk, A daguerreotype, a trompe-l'oiel des bois, Sight itself turned within, but without end, A forest of unstirring eyelashes, like long uncut grass, Death is the stillness of pewter leaves, And sorrow is sadness in love with itself.

0

Oct 26, 2024

Oct 26, 2024 at 11:17 PM UTC

ChrisSaitta

Death is the Stillness of Pewter Leaves

Death is my own covetous possession, A hand-me-down with the worn edges Of a closed, burnished keepsake box. Death is the memory of a tree-lined walk, A daguerreotype, a trompe-l'oiel des bois, Sight itself turned within, but without end, A forest of unstirring eyelashes, like long uncut grass, Death is the stillness of pewter leaves, And sorrow is sadness in love with itself.

9

That sound, like vengeance, bitter and whining! The unseen terrors ‘midst an unstirring throng Come weaving between my fingers, books, ears. Why, oh, why does it target me? A bee, a stinging assumption of the most Prevailing type, a thing—if ever there was— Most hated by the modern man: A loafer inspiring fear, inspiring action But to act would draw the cool judgment Of my peers—a **** a twitch, a sound—none move. This distance, for it does not bother you! No hesitation to act progressively when charity Is abundantly “there” but the coffers deign to open And the kitchens are dry, and the powers are artifice To shove the matter—illusory—to the great blue wayside. Away, away thing! Do not plunge your itinerancy In the soft of my skin—I do not want you here, Remove yourself from my sweet drink, Remove yourself from my food, remove Your presence—transparently, I don’t have to think About you if you…just…leave! And it did—ha! Hell spawn! Parasite! But such a lonely Planet finds its orbit just as drifting rocks find theirs, Even if it unaccommodating, in the outer wears, To sylvan marches—take thy there! And it has, poor little creature, buzzing through the miens aslare Spacey, empty, sans (attention), but sans care. None will bat an eye as its well-meant body, Interpellated annoyance, genetic condemnation, Vermilion-paints on the walls of Hell, Floats, broken, between uncaring faces, looking for That thing called home, arms warm from its Present-roam—uncared for Other on lithe little wings Glass beats at the speed of sound, beat heard Against the sky’s blue scrim, glass rippling, incensed So quick, movement becomes oneness and still. Who could not love you when you’re world’s ignominy? These ******** are but foul, they can not love you Steeled by the constant repressive ire For that which is so homeless—what is spurned in steely pines And flown away, far, far from the mind, Ceases to be in the cosmos free, trapped by hate And invisibility, objectively all, subjectively none.

0

Oct 10, 2014

Oct 10, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC

jp-goss

Just a Yellow Jacket

That sound, like vengeance, bitter and whining! The unseen terrors ‘midst an unstirring throng Come weaving between my fingers, books, ears. Why, oh, why does it target me? A bee, a stinging assumption of the most Prevailing type, a thing—if ever there was— Most hated by the modern man: A loafer inspiring fear, inspiring action But to act would draw the cool judgment Of my peers—a **** a twitch, a sound—none move. This distance, for it does not bother you! No hesitation to act progressively when charity Is abundantly “there” but the coffers deign to open And the kitchens are dry, and the powers are artifice To shove the matter—illusory—to the great blue wayside. Away, away thing! Do not plunge your itinerancy In the soft of my skin—I do not want you here, Remove yourself from my sweet drink, Remove yourself from my food, remove Your presence—transparently, I don’t have to think About you if you…just…leave! And it did—ha! Hell spawn! Parasite! But such a lonely Planet finds its orbit just as drifting rocks find theirs, Even if it unaccommodating, in the outer wears, To sylvan marches—take thy there! And it has, poor little creature, buzzing through the miens aslare Spacey, empty, sans (attention), but sans care. None will bat an eye as its well-meant body, Interpellated annoyance, genetic condemnation, Vermilion-paints on the walls of Hell, Floats, broken, between uncaring faces, looking for That thing called home, arms warm from its Present-roam—uncared for Other on lithe little wings Glass beats at the speed of sound, beat heard Against the sky’s blue scrim, glass rippling, incensed So quick, movement becomes oneness and still. Who could not love you when you’re world’s ignominy? These ******** are but foul, they can not love you Steeled by the constant repressive ire For that which is so homeless—what is spurned in steely pines And flown away, far, far from the mind, Ceases to be in the cosmos free, trapped by hate And invisibility, objectively all, subjectively none.

43

A beautiful notion isn't it? Ironic even The thought of waiting here like this As if the act is somehow blessed with ease When all around you is in motion And you are as unstirring as the trees Rooted deep within the mind Looking at the other side And seeing the blissful, beautiful ignorance How often I wish it could be mine That I had no such standards as this And that I could swallow such a feeble line Just like a fish Nibbling on a willow wisp In an ocean seemingly full of fish Believe me… I respect such idealism as this Because I live with it But to “just wait” and stay like this At present holds little hope for me Both to and from this someone else There is no transfer, or passage of peace Because these few years feel like an eternity And so the term… “The right one?” Makes want to say... “Oh please.”

0

Feb 19, 2017

Feb 19, 2017 at 10:57 PM UTC

colmistoirm

The Right One

A beautiful notion isn't it? Ironic even The thought of waiting here like this As if the act is somehow blessed with ease When all around you is in motion And you are as unstirring as the trees Rooted deep within the mind Looking at the other side And seeing the blissful, beautiful ignorance How often I wish it could be mine That I had no such standards as this And that I could swallow such a feeble line Just like a fish Nibbling on a willow wisp In an ocean seemingly full of fish Believe me… I respect such idealism as this Because I live with it But to “just wait” and stay like this At present holds little hope for me Both to and from this someone else There is no transfer, or passage of peace Because these few years feel like an eternity And so the term… “The right one?” Makes want to say... “Oh please.”

27

Distant persisting fragments endure unstirring in your heart you pick them away piece by piece yet every part is the same sharp as as frosty wind on your cheeks.

0

Dec 26, 2020

Dec 26, 2020 at 5:02 PM UTC

kerli-tulva

Serrated

Distant persisting fragments endure unstirring in your heart you pick them away piece by piece yet every part is the same sharp as as frosty wind on your cheeks.

5

two floor fans perched side by side one at full blast ******* in air blowing it out without a care who's there to receive the other half the height black as night silver blades silenced unstirring gazing into the distance in solemn stillness metallic meditation three empty chairs around an empty table sometimes filled with food filled with people filled with life but now just ghosts relics of the (whatever came before whatever comes after) in the moment nothing more than a waste of hard plastic and glossy green paint fossil fuels drawn from deep within the earth so much life destroyed so three ugly four-legged lifeless objects can sit around a table and share in the quiet nothingness cat curled up asleep underneath indifferent to the chairs' lack of conversation indifferent to the fans' competing notions of making the most of lifeless life indifferent to everything as only cats and fans and chairs can be

0

Aug 18, 2018

Aug 18, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC

MicMag

View from my couch

two floor fans perched side by side one at full blast ******* in air blowing it out without a care who's there to receive the other half the height black as night silver blades silenced unstirring gazing into the distance in solemn stillness metallic meditation three empty chairs around an empty table sometimes filled with food filled with people filled with life but now just ghosts relics of the (whatever came before whatever comes after) in the moment nothing more than a waste of hard plastic and glossy green paint fossil fuels drawn from deep within the earth so much life destroyed so three ugly four-legged lifeless objects can sit around a table and share in the quiet nothingness cat curled up asleep underneath indifferent to the chairs' lack of conversation indifferent to the fans' competing notions of making the most of lifeless life indifferent to everything as only cats and fans and chairs can be

41

Soundless, voiceless howl. Untouching, unstirring, unfound. Smashing the air inside my lungs, Catapulting dying oxygen crumbs. Performing the gasping melody chime. Drowning me in a pond of brine.

0

Sep 1, 2016

Sep 1, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC

hadas-brenner

Pond

Soundless, voiceless howl. Untouching, unstirring, unfound. Smashing the air inside my lungs, Catapulting dying oxygen crumbs. Performing the gasping melody chime. Drowning me in a pond of brine.

6